


Smoke & Ash In My Mouth

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Watersports, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Basically, Choking, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Desperation, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Memory Alteration, Multiple Orgasms, Obscurus, Other, Overstimulation, Prostate Abuse, Prostate Milking, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia, Tentacle Sex, credence crying during sex, ish, obscurus being possessive, size queen Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Graves has never been happier with Credence.But Credence isn't the only one he has to worry about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whileyoustillcan (L_M_Biggs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_M_Biggs/gifts).



> http://second-salemite.tumblr.com/post/158603801951/  
> inspired by this 100%  
> for LMBiggs, multiple orgasms, NOT credence being molested, and as always #bonus watersports.
> 
> NOW THERE IS PART 2 WITH CREDENCE / OBSCURUS

Credence, sweet, beautiful doting Credence, was laying beside him, sleeping soundly after he’d nearly made Graves black out from being driven through so many orgasms.

He’d always been insatiable, but since Graves had to take a business trip to London, overnight, and the boy was left alone at home, he’d nearly clung to him the second he flooed back home. Graves looked over at him, gazing at the length of his body illuminated by the moon, silvery and pale, ethereal, like an angel who secretly possessed a greater thirst for sex than the devil himself.

When he began to drift off, Graves felt a gentle caress on his face, and he blinked his eyes open, finding nothing there, Credence was tucked in on himself, arms folded into his chest, like he was hugging his own heart in, and he swallowed thickly. He was half asleep, dreaming, conjuring up something dark and dangerous.

His cock was hot and heavy between his thighs, somehow finally recovered the second his boy no longer needed him. He reached down to palm himself, and there was a firm force wrapping around his wrist, yanking his hand back. His eyes widened into the darkness, and he then felt a firm touch on his neck, the curling of fingers over his skin, and Graves could no longer breathe, until he cooperated.

The Obscurus had come out to play, now that its host was sated.

“Okay. I’ll be good.”

He murmured low, and then put his hands to his sides, fully surrendering to the dark and powerful magical force, which could make no noise, but probably was humming in contentment. The next thing he knew, darkness fell over his eyes, and he could only  _ feel _ , as one tendril slipped over his mouth, caressing his lips, not penetrating, but imitating a kiss in the only way it knew how, before moving down, kissing over the side of his neck, dipping into the curve of his neck and collarbone, where Credence loved to leave marks or rest his head when he was about to come after riding Graves. 

The smokey solid continued to tease him, for so long he thought he might die before he came again, and then, blissfully, it moved over his chest, barely grazing his nipples, achingly hard, and then his stomach, before splitting, and framing his cock, wiping away the drops of precum that were dripping off the head, and stroking once, making his entire body shudder, trying to chase the touch. 

Graves was in agony, pleasure cresting and then retreating with every touch and every press of the Obscurus, and his nails had to be drawing blood on his palms as he resisted the urge to disobey, to move, to touch himself and end it faster. 

Naked as he was, completely exposed, as another tendril slipped down between his legs, nudging over his hole, before pushing inside, one inch at a time, until it was just like when Credence would fuck him, slow, teasingly, before usually finishing in half a second. 

Now the pressure continued, and the tendril kept fucking into him, deeper and deeper, and  _ then _ it found his prostate, and rubbed harder, solidly torturing him as his breath began coming in pants, and his cock was  _ burning _ with the need to come.

Graves was on the verge of begging, moaning aloud, and as he opened his mouth to make noise, smoke curled into his lips, gagging him effectively, forcing him to breathe through his nose, and he shivered through a featherlight stroke on his cock, while the tendril up his ass kept pushing and pushing.

His first orgasm took him by surprise, and his cock only twitched, spurting out a few drops of come onto his stomach, the gagging thing down his throat barely muffling his groan. The Obscurus would have been smirking if it had a face, as it continued, fucking harder, and deeper, adding a second slim tendril beside the first, as the tendrils around his cock tightened, and gripped at the base as it teased over his leaking head.

He was trembling, muscles worked to the limit, and his thighs were screaming, he wished he could pull his legs up to his chest to allow it deeper, to let it let  _ him _ finish for real. Graves’ eyes snapped open when the second wave crashed over him, and he screamed against the gag, as the tendrils up his ass scissored and added a third, while the first continued to abuse his prostate, practically shoving him full force into his climax.

His hips stuttered, almost outside his control, and he got a squeeze around his neck for his disobedience, as the tendril around his cock head fluttered like a tongue over the slit, urging forth a couple more strings of white to puddle on his stomach.

The sweat tickling on the back of his neck couldn’t be touched, couldn’t scratched or wiped away, and Graves started to wonder how much more of the torture he could take. The Obscurus seemed as if it would go until Credence woke up, and it needed to retreat again.

He tried to plead, tried to reason, but of course, the entity had no way to comprehend his thoughts and silent requests. Instead, the tendrils in his ass moved deeper, pressing harder, and it was like he’d never been more full, unless Credence buried himself inside him, and maybe they could be joined by a friend, Theseus perhaps.

The slender one pushed his buttons, and dragged him headlong into another orgasm, finally letting up on the hold at the base of his cock, so that he could finally come for real, and he almost passed out from relief, feeling the few spurts of come wetting over his skin. It would dry and leave him feeling sticky and disgusting, but at least now he could relax, and get some rest. If it would stop. 

But it didn’t.

The Obscurus was relentless, and Graves thought for a heartstopping second that it would kill him, and maybe, Credence  _ wanted _ it. Maybe it was some kind of horrible revenge for what he’d done to the boy when that monster had worn his face. It was an unconscious desire. He wouldn’t blame the boy.

He was crying now, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the gag in his mouth would have been soaked if it had been corporeal, solid, and instead he felt the fingers in his ass withdraw slightly, except for the one still rubbing over his prostate, intent on pushing him past his limits. 

There was no semen left inside his sack, he felt as if he’d been wrung dry. But there had been a few drinks, some whiskey, a glass of water, and it was a need he’d ignored all night in favor of getting Credence off and himself once.

Once was all he wanted.

Usually.

Once was all he could do.

The Obscurus disagreed.

It was still stroking his cock, pointlessly soft, and so hypersensitive every caress was like being pinched or cut. 

When a tiny piece brushed away his tears, he wondered if it was tenderness, until it was shoved into his mouth, down his throat, onto his tongue, making him gag.

At the same time a slow press over his abdomen, and the ache inside of him was losing ground to the  _ need _ to release. His cock was held against his stomach, aimed at his face, and he knew the reason. The Obscurus was going to force him to humiliate himself, and make him think he was enjoying it.

Another thrust against his prostate, and Graves sobbed in earnest as he felt his bladder ease, and his cock began to spurt out urine, wetting over his stomach and chest and streaming down his skin to the sheets, warming the fabric under his body, and splashing up to his neck, as a tendril brutally fucked in and out of his ass, as if trying to say  _ ‘you’d love it if Credence did this to you, wouldn’t you?’ _ and the truth was, yes,  _ yes _ he would. 

He hated being taken like that,  _ unless _ it was his boy doing it to him. In a way, it was.

But when every ounce of strength was gone, and he was a limp and disgusting mess of a man,  _ that _ was when the Obscurus retreated, and the sheets were stained with blood from his palms, piss, and his semen, along with a dark smudge like ash where his saliva had dripped off and around the gag.

  
  


Credence woke him up with a scream in the morning, and Graves cleaned everything away in a heartbeat, just barely managing to convince the boy he’d been dreaming still, before pulling him into his arms, and praying he would never again encounter the entity, not without the boy in control.

  
  
  



	2. Prequel/bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc i WANTED IT. here's credence being molested by his own obscurus. set right before the previous chap, while daddy!graves is out of town.

Mister Graves had never left him for longer than a day at work before, and Credence was frightened, unsure he’d be able to sleep at all. He lay perfectly still, tucked into  _ their _ bed, and tried to get comfortable. 

Surrounded by the man’s scent, his cologne and shampoo that lingered on the sheets, Credence knew it shouldn’t be difficult. He was safe, protected by powerful wards on the apartment, as well as his own magic that he possessed, and accessed easily, when he had a wand. He still hadn’t mastered wandless magic, which seemed to come so easily to Mister Graves. An effortless twirl of his fingers to make tea, to cook dinner, or to undress them both.

Credence felt flushed, and his cock was thickening between his thighs. He huffed out a sigh. He didn’t want to defile their bed, to touch himself when he was alone. He much preferred the strong embrace of the man, and his earnest kisses to helpless groping and frantic rutting.

It had been a long six months of dancing around each other, until they’d finally admitted there was more to be explored than a chaste kiss would satisfy.

Slowly, reluctantly, he reached under the covers to palm over his cock, impatient, just deciding he’d do it quick, and then try to sleep. The room was pleasantly dark and cool, as moonlight streamed in across the ceiling, Credence closed his eyes, and didn’t notice anything amiss, until there was a firm press over his mouth, and  _ a _ something slipping between his lips.

It wasn’t hard like a body or faint like a ghost, for they existed, he’d learned, but it tasted like the time he’d burned Mister Graves’ toast, before he’d taken over the cooking, declaring Credence his guest, no cooking allowed.

It felt familiar and was fairly gentle if insistent, and Credence tried in vain to summon his wand, to turn on some lights and figure out just  _ what _ it was. The thing stroking over his forehead now, pushing over his eyes was dark, and indeed solid enough to blot out the silver streaks of light. Magic. It had to be.

 

_ ‘Very good’ _

 

The voice was so quiet, he’d wondered if he imagined it…

 

‘ _ No we’re very real, part of you, Credence. We  _ are _ you. _ ’

 

Vaguely he remembered Mister Graves telling him that word, what he was called, what he possessed, from being so old and without training for so long.

It was a separate thing?

Very smothering, possessive of him, it seemed, selfishly plucking his hand away from his cock, and wrapping itself around him, stroking rougher, fast, and almost throwing him into his orgasm, thighs quivering against the sheets as he spurted over his chest, slicking the sheets he hadn’t moved out of the way.

It did that, quick enough, nearly ripping them in its haste.

 

“Please… I need to sleep.”

 

‘ _ Not yet. _ ’

The darkness over his eyes didn’t move, and the slim tendril resting over his cheek retreated from his mouth but only to slide down his neck, a threatening but careful grip there. He didn’t think he could reach up and stop it, fight it off, because it was him, wasn’t it? So if he was making it happen, somehow, he must have  _ wanted  _ it.

Credence was very confused, and scared, tears slipping down his cheeks, even as his cock was still being touched, slow steady movements, and then something was creeping down his groin, caressing past his sack, touching over his hole, dry and tight.

“Please… don’t…”

He didn’t know the spell for slickness, Mister Graves always did it, and hadn’t taught him yet. As he flushed in shame, he felt something press inside, nudging open, not following any rules or listening to any of his pleas. It was a slow drag of friction, and he shifted his legs, curling them up to his chest, being allowed to hold himself, a hand on each knee, as his cock rested over his stomach, soft, but twitching, trying to get hard again.

Another tendril rubbed over his hole, just grazing the rim, as the thing inside him moved deeper, searching for something.

Credence knew what it was, and when it had found it. 

His spine arched, and he was crying out, thrown into another climax even though he wasn’t hard yet, body wracked with pleasure, his toes curling. 

Somehow it got wider, thickening inside him, feeling more similar to how Mister Graves felt when he made love to him, always with careful preparation of his fingers, sometimes even putting his mouth there, making him bright red with shame.

“No, wait…”

_ It _ was jealous.

Somehow it knew he was thinking about his love, and of course, it felt as if he didn’t care for it, when it had always been there, a friend, a protector.

 

‘ _ How dare you betray us?’ _

 

He was spread wider, another  _ something _ slipping in along with the first, and he felt as if he was being split in half, fucked open on his own magic, bent on hurting him, driving him to break, to beg for something to make it stop.

Mister Graves would have saved him in a heartbeat if he’d known.

Oh.

Oh no.

The grip on his cock started again, angry, and grazing, like sharp nails on the length up the sides, swiping over the head, not enough pre to help it. It pressed  _ in _ harder, nudging against the spot inside him that felt traitorously good, and Credence could feel the tendril on his neck tightening, spots forming in front of his vision, white against the darkness.

Tears fell freely and he was coming again, fruitlessly dripping onto his stomach, only for it to be scooped up and shoved into his mouth, gagging on the taste of smoke and ash and salt.

Just like brimstone, he was in hell, but there was no fire.

His thighs were aching from his legs being held up to his chest, but it was impossible to lower them, not when he was stuffed so full, and kept that way, until finally, the tendril on his throat loosened, and he took in several deep shuddering breaths, pain spearing his abdomen as all his senses returned.

He couldn’t come, couldn’t get hard again.

Not when there was something rubbing over his cock, overstimulating him beyond what he could bear. It pushed down, squeezing his length, torturous and slow, before retreating, and caressing down his stomach, as he tried to shrink away.

The thing in his ass was moving back too, pulsing somewhat, a poor mockery of fucking into him, of pretending it could release, and then stabbing again, pushing right into that spot, and he screamed. Or he would have, had there not been something muffling noise, clapped over his mouth. He tried to bite it, to make it leave, but that was a mistake.

 

‘ _ No.you don’t _ ’

 

He relaxed his legs, letting them stretch back out in front of him, and then sat up, only to be forced back down, another tendril on his neck, choking him again, as his cock gave a valiant effort to get hard again, the near constant stimulation inside him making it hard to breathe and relax anyway. Too late, he felt the pain in his abdomen ease, as his muscles were forced to relax through another orgasm, and his cock was leaking, wetting his skin, the acrid smell of urine almost overpowered the smoke.

Credence shivered as it seeped around him, and to his horror, something else pushed in, again, as if it thought he wasn’t done.

Every muscle in his body ached, and he feared he’d never be able to come again. 

 

_ ‘Your despair is beautiful. _

 

“Please, stop… I can’t do…”

It was like he’d been slapped across the face, and then was being caressed, some sort of tender mockery of how Mister Graves touched him.

 

‘ _ We’re always watching. _ ’

 

Credence’s vision went dark again, and there was sweet blissful relief as it stopped, pulled back, and then nothing.

 

Credence started, gasping for air, and he realized the sheets were damp beneath his legs, and his wand was sitting over on the bedside table.

He reached out blindly and snatched it up, casting a cleaning charm, and feeling his cheeks flush. He couldn’t tell Mister Graves that he’d done that. He couldn’t bear it.

At least it was morning. He’d made it through the night, and his love would be home very soon. Credence fell back onto the pillows and eyed the ceiling. For some reason, he couldn’t remember falling asleep, or what he’d dreamed about.

He supposed maybe he’d just been too tired to dream.

 


End file.
